


Days full of wonder, days full of love

by Marayanna



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Freya becomes some sort of local cryptid, Gen, Golden Age of Camelot, but they all love her anyway, everyone is happy, magic is legal, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 06:40:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16362842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marayanna/pseuds/Marayanna
Summary: Arthur finds a way to bring Freya back. The hearts of everyone in Camelot are big enough to accept one more family member, and Merlin finally, finally, has his happiness. The're in the middle of their destined Golden Age and everything is good.





	Days full of wonder, days full of love

When it came to Merlin, Arthur has outgrown his pride long ago. Yes, he owed the man his life many times over. Yes, he was humbled by the amount of loyalty and faith the sorcerer has put in him. And yes, he _knew_ that no matter what Arthur did, how many titles he bestowed on his ex-servant and how many praises he sang to anybody willing to listen – he knew he would never be able to repay him for all the blood, sweat and tears he lost for Camelot.

And yet he tried.

He heard it in passing from one of the now-many sorcerers practicing in Camelot. Something about curses and destinies, and that sometimes the sacrifices had to be big, bigger than anybody could ever imagine, but sometimes the smallest thing used in the right way could tip the balance and nudge the flow of events in just the right direction.

And the thing is – he _knew_. He knew he should not meddle in things he most decidedly did not understand. These were powers beyond his comprehension and while he did his best to follow Merlin’s excited chatter enough to nod in the right places, he would never understand magic in any way.

But sometimes, when Merlin was surrounded by his starry-eyed students, or during family dinners with Gwen and closest knights, or when reading a book in his tower, half-finished experiments strewn over the table, sometimes during those moments Merlin looked sad. It was a loneliness that could not be filled with knights or students or books.

Arthur knew what it had to do with, of course. He knew about Freya.

That’s why, when he heard the discussion in the corridor and then got approached by hesitant but well-meaning mages few days later, he was ready to act.

“We cannot be sure it will work” they said, and he responded that they had to at least try.

“Emrys’ power might be needed here” they advised and he said, yes, but giving him hope and then snatching it away would be cruel, and isn’t it precisely the reason why they came to _him_ and not the Court Sorcerer himself?

“The price might be different from what we anticipate, it might be big, too big” they warned, and he said nothing, because what was there to say? There were precious few lines he wouldn’t cross to repay his friend. To atone for what he did.

When they got to the lake, it was as blue as ever. Sunshine was reflected on its surface in millions of tiny sparks and the waves beat quietly on the shore. Arthur didn’t feel any magic. He never did. Bu he saw how sorcerers around him moved with caution in their steps, how they looked towards water with awe and apprehension. Seeing something his eyes were not privy to, perhaps.

They prepared the runes, the fires, the spells. They steeled themselves. And began.

 

.

 

Merlin was waiting on the steps of the castle when they returned.

“What the hell Arthur? What in the _blazing_ hell?” he shouted, frantic and angry and, as Arthur noticed fondly, checking them all for injuries. “What were you thinking, running away doing magic without me? Without even _consulting_ me? What have you done? I’ve felt the ripples even here!” he was shouting at the top of the lungs now, his furious glare shifting between Arthur and the rest of his mages, now cowing before the anger of their Emrys.

For a tiniest second Arthur though about the way he ruled his kingdom, where a man could use such tone to speak to his king in the middle of the square. But he knew, deep in his heart, that when his people saw the easy camaraderie he had with his knights and the sorcerer, he seemed to them more human than any ruler that ever came before him. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Finally Merlin stopped, realizing that his shouts and threats didn’t have any effect on Arthur. His worried eyes bore into his king, and Arthur didn’t want to torment him any longer. So he just stepped aside and motioned to the figure standing behind them, partially obscured by the horses, one that Merlin overlooked in his agitation and hurry to check up on Arthur. But now his eyes followed the motion. He froze.

Freya was smiling softly, drinking in the sight of Merlin, and when their eyes met, her smile grew bigger, fonder. She took one step forward-

And in an instant Merlin was between her and the group, one arm raised in a threatening motion, eyes already gleaming with the power of spells ready to be cast.

“Merlin!” Arthur shouted out, and the mages gasped, but Merlin didn’t pay them any attention.

“Who are you?” he asked, and a chill ran down Arthur’s spine at the cold edge in this voice. Merlin was the kindest, gentlest soul in the Camelot. I was easy to forget how he sounded when he was angry. When he was _threatening._

Freya, however, seemed the only one unmoved.

“I’m Freya. You know me” she said, still smiling softly, as if she didn’t expect any other reaction.

“No, I know Freya who died. Freya who’s the Lady of the Lake. And who can’t freely walk away from her domain” he finished pointedly, his raised arm not wavering.

“Yes. That’s what I’ve known for years, too. And what is, it seems, no longer true” her tone was gentle and she held herself still. Not pressuring. Not pushing. “And I think I have king Arthur to thank for that”

At that Merlin got so still Arthur was sure he stopped breathing. “Arthur” he asked at long last, voice barely above whisper “Arthur, what have you _done?_ ”

“We brought her back” he summoned all the confidence he could in the face of Merlin’s obvious distress. “Well, not completely. She is still Lady of the Lake, she just… can be here, now, too” he motioned vaguely with his hands, as if that would make it easier to explain, thought truth be told, he only repeated what mages told him.

“And the price?” Merlin turned his head to see Arthur, white as sheet now, still standing between his king and he entity he didn’t trust, didn’t let himself believe it could be what it seemed.

Arthur hesitated for a second, but there was no point in trying to hide the truth. Merlin would find out soon anyway. “Excalibur” he admitted and watched his friend’s eyes grow wide for a second, before his expression became assessing. Arthur could see  he understood at once the how’s and why’s of the connection his sword had with the destiny, the lake, the deal he struck. “I see” was all he said, in a strange voice, and turned to Freya fully.

“You gave me a strawberry” Freya started, before he could say anything more.

“Anyone could scry that”

“No, we both know they couldn’t” she admonished gently and Merlin pursed his lips. She took a step forward holding out both hands, slowly and non-threateningly. “And we know there’s no need for all this. You could just… check”

Merlin hesitated. But finally he took couple of steps himself, holding out hands too.

When they touched he gasped and it seemed like _something_ was happening between them, because both Merlin’s and Freya’s eyes flashed gold.

There was a long moment of silence.

_One heartbeat, two heartbeats, three heartbeats, four heart…_

“Freya” Merlin choked out, all aggravation gone, replaced by a shock, amazement, wonder, _love_. And she hugged him, not keeping herself back anymore, and held him tight as he broke down crying and whispering her name over and over again, and as she whispered her own assurances and confessions of love.

Arthur gave them their time, glaring away anybody who had nothing better to do than stare, and when it seemed like they both calmed down a bit, he cleared his throat. “Well,” he smiled “I’m sure there’ll be a lot of introducing to do, and I don’t know about you but I’d _love_ some feast in the honor of our new guest…” he paused, relishing the look of uneasiness on Freya’s face. She and Merlin seemed to have many similarities and he couldn’t help but like her already “…but I’m sure, for now, you’d prefer to be left alone” he finished, gesturing to the entrance of the castle.

“We’ll talk later” he added, more serious, just as Merlin was about to say something, because he _knew_. He knew there was much to explain, much to decide. Freya’s entire _existence_ was something incromprehensible, and her presence will bring changes to court, to their whole lives.

But that was a topic of discussions that will stretch for hours, discussions that were not necessary right now. Right now, Merlin got Freya back, long years after losing her. Right now, all they needed was a quiet room just for the two of them, and time to talk.

Arthur looked into shining eyes of his best friend and smiled, with the knowledge he did well.

 

.

 

“I died, yes” she was explaining, completely unfazed by the topic and calmly cutting into her meal “And at the same time I didn’t. As was planned by Destiny, I got sent to Avalon where I took my rightful place as its Lady”

She looked around the table, looking for signs of incomprehension. Leon was listening attentively, looking like a person who really, _really_ wanted to understand and if he’d only listen hard enough, he’d have a better chance of a success. Percy scratched his chin thoughtfully, but judging by his eyes, he was already lost. Gwen was nodding along, as if listening about dying-but-not-really during dinner was nothing out of the ordinary, and really, after all they’ve been through over the years, it really, _really_ wasn’t.

“And then, the knight in shining armor came and freed me from my prison” she smiled at Arthur, eyes sparkling with mischief, and he was once again shocked at how she could joke and laugh with him, considering… Considering. “Though, it’s more the realm I rule over than actual prison. And he didn’t free me, as much as… change the rules” she continued.

“What does _that_ mean?” Gwaine asked incredulously. He was the only knight to feel completely at ease with Freya, to be undisturbed by her presence.

It was strange, but even though they all knew, logically, how crazily powerful Merlin was, usually they just… forgot about it. They saw Merlin cry at the sight of bird with broken wing, and laugh till he cried at the joke that made all the other people roll their eyes, and spill the entire cup of ale on the front of his shirt when he gesticulated too much during a feast. And, yes, they saw him being powerful too, scarily so, but even during these moments he was completely and to the core their Merlin.

Freya was different.

 Maybe it was because she lived in a different realm for so long. Or maybe the power that came with being the Lady of the Lake was something that shone through, prickling people’s senses, impossible to conceal. Be it as it may, it was enough to take one look at her to know that she was… off. The shadows deepened when she passed. Droplets of water seemed permanently etched to her hair and eyelashes. She looked at a bird, or a torch, or a cloud, and her expression turned unreadable, as if she had seen something more, something beyond.

She was Lady of the Lake, ruler of the land behind the veil and in the end, everybody would enter her domain and bow before her power.

It made people nervous, even if most of them couldn’t explain it, didn’t even understand it themselves. But it was an instinct, ingrained deeply into the souls of animals of prey, instinct that screamed at humans to cow in presence of their predator.

And then she looked at Merlin, her eyes crinkled in laughter and full of love, and Merlin looked back, completely besotted. And one of the knights, unfailingly, would comment on being lovestruck fools, and they would all pretend it’s their new normal and make all the effort to make it exactly that.

For Gwaine it meant being his usual, cheeky self, who at the very first meeting, when everybody else still walked on eggshells trying to feel out the new situation, asked Freya whether there were some nice ladies in the afterlife. It was enough to shock the rest of the knights into silence and cause Arthur mild heart attack. He was _just_ opening his mouth to apologize, when Freya turned her wide, innocent eyes at the grinning man and said “I don’t know if you’d like them. They all seem rather stiff”

Freya was impossible to put any sort of label on, or understand fully, but she was slowly becoming theirs just as surely as Merlin was.

“Well?” implored Gwaine, chewing his meal, and Freya smiled that smile that was somehow both warm and unnerving at the same time

“That means, sir knight, that although  I’m still Lady of the Lake, I’m allowed to spend some of my time here, in the mortal world”

“With Merlin” he specified.

“With Merlin” she agreed and the pair in question shared a look that made everybody roll their eyes.

“They’re worse than the two of you had been, and I thought _that_ was impossible” Elyan murmured in Gwen’s direction, pretending to be surprised that everybody heard him. Leon took a swing of his wine to hide a smirk. The rest didn’t even bother.

“That means you’ll have to come back to the lake” Gwen asked, simultaneously rolling eyes at her brother, and Freya nodded, observing it all with a smirk of her own.

“Quite frequently, I expect. There’s always work to be done” her smile turned almost apologetic, as thought she tried to soften the topic for her listeners. “But now I can come back, and that’s more than I ever thought possible. And for that, I am grateful” she said, quiet happiness shining through her smile, and it made everyone at the table smile too.

 

.

 

Freya opened a flower shop.

She adamantly refused any position at the court, wasn’t interested in a magical career, wouldn’t even _consider_ place at the round table _(“It has to be earned, Arthur Pendragon, or all it represents loses meaning”_ ) Arthur wasn’t sure when it happened, only that in the course of few weeks, small shop filled with herbs and fresh flowers appeared on the main road leading to the castle (and Arthur wondered sometimes. Had there been a building at this location before?)

Freya took to leaving Merlin’s tower on early mornings, when the world was still sleepy and gray, when shadows mingled with mists and the barely rising sun painted impossible gradients in the sky. She went on long walks in the forest, picking all she would need that day. She came back with wild flowers in her braid, basket overflowing with colorful blooms and rare herbs. Some of them she would take to Gauis later in the day, sometimes even stay to help with preparing potions

When she came back to town, it was usually already alive with its morning bustle. People were running around completing their morning chores, some energetic and some tired in the face of another day, but all smiling and respectfully returning greetings of a dark haired woman smelling of chamomile and wet earth. Even thought it wasn’t long, her shape returning from a still-dark forest became a familiar sight to all.

Arthur knew of that shop, of course. Freya had the gall, no, the audacity, to ask him for permission to set it up. As if he didn’t promise himself, that as long as he could do anything about it, Merlin would want for nothing. As if that promise didn’t get naturally extended to Freya as well.

He knew that the shop was reasonably prosperous and somehow, as time went by, the majority of its clientele became people suffering from nightmares, from unexplainable bad luck, from heartache that just wouldn’t go away. Freya sold them flowers and dried herbs and they somehow helped (and Arthur wondered still. He was in no way a botanist expert, but some of those plants didn’t look like they could grow anywhere near Camelot.)

So, yes, he knew about that shop. It’s just, in a few months it has been opened, he never, well, been there. At first he looked for excuses – he was busy, Freya needed time to set everything up – but one of the hardest lessons Merlin taught him was how to be honest to himself, so he had to admit– he was scared. And that was precisely why one day he gathered all his courage and with a heavy heart went to face his fears.

When he neared the shop, he saw Freya leaning at the doorframe, looking as though she was telling a story to a small, giggling girl with a huge flower crown that kept sliding into her eyes. The older women crouched to adjust the flowery construction and finished whatever it was that she was saying. The girl laughed out loud, replied enthusiastically, and ran off.

Arthur didn’t realize he stopped and stared, until Freya stood up from her crouch and turned to look straight at him in one fluid motion, as if she knew he was there all along. He coughed and forced himself to move. “I didn’t, uh. Didn’t want to interfere” he started, and it sounded lame even to his own ears, but Freya seemed unfazed, if mildly amused.

“You wouldn’t. Anna comes by from time to time, and we share stories. She seems to like flowers a lot” she moved to walk into her shop, and Arthur, for the lack of anything better to do, followed her.

“And what can I help you with, Arthur Pendragon?” she raised an eyebrow “If, for whatever reason, you need flowers to apologize to Gwen, I recommend lavender. They have calming effects and are her favourite color” she said and Arthur sputtered.

“I don’t- Gwen isn’t- How do you know her favourite color?” he demanded and only then he realized an amused glint in her eyes and understood he was being goaded. He ran hand through his hair, flustered. She was just like Merlin, sometimes.

“If you don’t need them, then what can I help you with?” she asked, more serious. “You’ve never been here before”

And she didn’t mean it as a reproach, he knew she didn’t. I felt like one, still.

“I know” he said and there was so much more to say, except now that it mattered he couldn’t remember the right words, didn’t know how to string them into proper sentences, so he just stood there, awkwardly.

She spoke first.

“I want to thank you, Arthur Pendragon. For what you’ve done for me, even thought you had no obligation to”

She looked at him somberly, the eerie gaze of creature not fully human, and he felt his stomach twist unpleasantly, because what has he done, really? Given up a sword that was never truly his in the first place, carved and strengthened and kept safe by those around him who cared and helped unnoticed, and if _that_ wasn’t an accurate metaphor for his life he didn’t know what was.

And now one of those people, the women he _killed_ was thanking him, as though he deserved it.

He squared his shoulders and straightened.

“No thanks are necessary, my lady. They are not _deserved_. In fact,”  he looked straight into her eyes, his voice firm now “I came here to beg for forgiveness”

He could feel his heart hammering wildly in his chest, because... Well, how do you ask for forgiveness the person you killed with cold blood? He raised his hand, stopping Freya when it looked like she wanted to say something. Now that he started, he needed to say it all, or he’d never find his courage again.

“I know. Merlin told me you bear no ill will towards me. But it is not _right_. I committed a crime and there should be a price to pay. You are… you are the purest, kindest soul for forgiving me. However, that does not make the sin disappear.

Did you know? Merlin didn’t tell me about you at first. Wanted to protect me, like he always does. But I’ve found out eventually. And thought years passed, there wasn’t a day that I didn’t feel shame because of what I’ve done. That is why…”

He kneeled at her feet.

“You forgave me, yet I promise to earn your forgiveness. You do not ask me to repay you, yet I offer it freely. I consider myself indebted to you and give my word to work tirelessly, so that your kindness shall be earned and forgiveness well deserved”

He met her gaze but it was unreadable. The room was quiet and washed with golden evening light, that painted shapes on the walls and deepened shadows in the corners. The scent of flowers was heavy and overwhelming.

She nodded slowly, thoughtfully

“I accept you oath, Arthur Pendragon, and I shall expect it to be fulfilled” there was a heaviness to her quiet voice, and with a shiver he understood that there were powers beyond his comprehension witnessing this, that, somehow it _mattered._

“It does” Freya smiled, the light making her smile sharp like a cat’s, and a chill ran down his spine. “Once and Future King, kneeling of his own volition before the daughter of Avalon. Asking for forgiveness, unprompted. Tangled with Destiny, and yet accepting the responsibility”

She looked at him for a second, and he didn’t dare breathe.

“Yes, I did forgive you. Me and Merlin, we both know just how cruel Destiny can be. That there is a choice, there is _always_ a choice, but there are also consequences that we have no power over. _You_ had no power over.

But make no mistake. Forgiveness it is not the same as friendship, not the same as trust.”

She reached down and took his hands, leading him up.

“I accept your oath, Arthur. And when it is fulfilled, let there be love between us, and friendship, and trust. And I, in turn, promise to strive towards that goal as well”

She squeezed his hands as the shadows swirled and Arthur smiled, for the first time since her return, without guilt.


End file.
